The Pattern of Death
by Sixth Night
Summary: A suspicious murder brings back old memories for Tempe Brennan, and she discovers a pattern only a serial killer could establish. Her investigation will change everything. [Tempe POV][Eventual BB]


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The Pattern of Death  
_Hydro-whatever_

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"I thought you said they were here…"

The aggravation in Booth's voice was beginning to show. The man who'd called to report a body found in the land fill was… well, colorful. He was missing teeth and talked with a strange southern twang, out of place to say the least.

I crossed my arms, squinting into the sun. "You can't have forgotten the location."

The old man looked at me, lost. I sympathized for a moment, wondering if he suffered memory loss frequently.

"Forget it; I'll call in the dogs." Booth turned and signaled impatiently.

Relief washed across the old man's face. I felt relieved as well. I knew that the dogs would locate the body and that would shorten the amount of time we'd be in the company of putrid trash, sweltering heat, and bright sun. Summers were sometimes the worst time of year in my line of work.

I watched as the cadaver dogs roamed the length of their leashes, sniffing and circling. There were three total, probably because of the radius in which the body could be. The old man had narrowed it down, but not by much. The dogs were mostly of shepherd blood lines, and I admired their focus amidst what could be considered food by some animals. The handlers looped wider when they found nothing.

Just when it seemed hopeless, one of the cadaver dogs went to town. Once the hard trailing came to an end, the dog barked circles and promptly lay down. Silence ensued. There wasn't a person out there who didn't know what it meant when the dog signaled. It meant there was a body. Some of us probably held hope that the old man was confused, that there was no body to be found. Now, the truth stared us dead in the eyes.

I moved quickly, collecting my travel case and moving in when the dog was cleared. I had help, so carefully stripping away trash and dirt from the plastic bag went smoothly and quickly. Once we'd exposed the trash bag, I knew immediately what was inside. The smell was fetid and allowed none of us to doubt.

I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my gloved hand and glared disappointment toward Booth. "It's definitely remains. Let's get them to the lab so we can determine whether they're human or not."

The bag was smaller, but I had no doubts. It was just procedure. Booth covered his mouth for a moment, looking away. The smell always got to him, no matter how he tried not to show it. It got to me, too, but I steeled myself against it. I have had years of experience with the odor and sometimes I think my nose has learned to ignore it completely on command.

I have always been passionate about my work despite its outwardly deterrent nature. Many shy away from the crime scenes and avoid morgues or medico-legal labs, but I live in them. It isn't that I have some sick side that is satisfied by the gore, far from it, in fact. I have a side that wants nothing more than to give the dead a voice. I want them to have their name returned. I want their story to be told. I want the families to have closure and to grieve in full respect. And I wanted to be sure that whoever was left in this land fill was given at least that. But most of all, I wanted to see the monster who had done this come to justice.

_-&-_

Once back at the lab, I was joined by Zack. We teased the black plastic away from the decomposing flesh as carefully as we could, and after a while we had exposed the remains. I now knew how the bones had fit into the bag. Cam made her appearance while we were setting the segments into anatomical order. Each was accompanied by a fair amount of putrefied soft tissue, and due to the light, what maggots had remained were diving for the floor. I'd never liked the maggots, so I'd bag them and any other insect bits as quickly as possible and send them to Hodgins. Happy birthday.

"I guess there are no doubts about the species…"

I'd nearly forgotten Cam, I'd been so wrapped up in plucking maggots and casings from the body and floor along with any other bits of organic matter. Her face was grim, expressing the way I felt as well.

"None. This is definitely a human." I'd known the second we'd exposed the bag at the land fill.

"Let's see what we can get from the tissue first, and then we'll move to the bones."

I'd never appreciated Cam's bossiness or instruction, but in the recent months we'd come to an understanding. We were getting along a little better than usual.

What skin remained on the skull was fair, and the clumps of hair were auburn where the dirt had not stuck. I moved to the pelvis, which had been exposed and had little flesh left to speak of. The notch below the hip blade was broad and shallow, and when I examined the area where the right and left halves of the pelvis come together, I noted the curve formed by their lower borders. Ridges crisscrossed the front of the pubic bone.

"Female." Though I'd suspected such when I'd seen the size and shape of the remains along with the features that were visible on her face.

"The wisdom teeth have erupted." Cam had been inspecting the head. "I'd also say she was Caucasian."

I thought so as well.

"Shall we move on to the bones?"

I nodded. We'd get more that way at this point, the flesh was practically useless. We kept samples of anything that looked suspicious anyhow. To make our job easier, the bones would be soaked for a time until the remaining tissue could be removed. We'd then tease away anything stubborn and examine the bones. The surfaces would give me a better estimate of age.

A few hours later, we knew that this was definitely a woman of Caucasian race, barely in her early twenties. I felt worse than I had in weeks. But I would come to feel much worse momentarily.

"Look at this." Cam.

I left the pelvis and peered through the gap between Cam and Zack's shoulders. What I saw made me uneasy. I must have been wrapped up in determining age and had missed this on the femur.

"Those are saw striations."

"I can identify the saw." Zack.

"That'd be great," I told him.

I had to work to push the anger fighting for the surface to the back of my mind. I absolutely abhor violent death, especially when it involves not only women, but dismemberment. The worst kind of death. I had known that the victim was dismembered, but the nature of the saw blade suggested a much worse fate then I had assumed.

It was then that Booth came in, visibly uncomfortable when he viewed our work table.

"Find anything yet?"

I peeled my latex gloves off and threw them into the biohazard receptacle. He'd made his way toward our area, so I met him half way. I stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"She was in her early twenties, Caucasian, and she was dismembered."

"Wonderful." He couldn't hide the sarcasm if he'd tried.

"I'll get the skull and photos of what remained of her face to Angela once we're finished so that she can give us an accurate picture. Maybe we'll get an idea as to who this woman was."

"Right. Well, no one at the dump knew anything. There aren't any security cameras, even at the gate. High tech establishment. No personal effects that we can find, either."

"That won't help."

"No, it won't. But we need an identity ASAP."

"I'll call you once I've got something."

He left and I felt a renewed energy to find anything I could. I examined every imaginable surface of bone, going feet first. That was my first mistake. I found nothing until I got to the upper spine and skull.

The cervical vertebrae showed small nicks in surface of the bone. We would have to determine the source, but judging by the appearance of the cut, I would suspect classic weaponry: the garrote or a smooth blade. There was also an oddity in the skull. The space two fingerbreadth's above the ear was disrupted by a well-healed burr hole, suggesting the woman had endured some form of neurosurgery.

Zack interrupted me. "It was a common hacksaw used by butchers."

"Well that narrows things down."

I was frustrated with the outcome. I'd been hoping that the saw would be somewhat unique in order to give us something to work on. Zack nodded, shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't his fault, but I had a bad habit of taking things out on others.

"Maybe you'll be able to determine what caused this."

I showed him the nick on the cervical vertebrae. He nodded and I prepared to take the skull to Angela, but as I moved it, I could hear an object slide around inside. Cautiously, I manipulated the skull around until an implant of some kind protruded from the nasal cavity. I removed it, noticing that I'd gotten Zack's undivided attention. Our eyes met, he looked puzzled for a moment. It was small, less than five inches of tubing with a minute valve at one end.

"What is that?" He tilted his head, giving the shunt a once over.

"Some kind of medical implant," I said while turning the object around to get a look. "I think I'll pay a visit to a neurosurgery department.

I bagged the shunt after X-ray and took the skull to Angela. She was going to put priority on the case and would let me know when she finished her work. Hodgins had just about the same game plan with the maggots and casings. I cleaned up and called Booth. Fifteen minutes later, we were on our way to the hospital.

I had been able to avoid my mind while I was busy with work, but as we drove to the hospital, I couldn't stay away from my thoughts. Something about the case was familiar. A young, Caucasian female dismembered with signs of strangulation by garrote. It wasn't necessarily a common thing, but neither was it uncommon. It was right in the middle, simple but violent and calculated. And I'd seen it done this way before.

My memory is very long and very accurate. I tend to remember most things, unless they are utterly useless and unimportant. And things were triggering. "Booth… this reminds me of an old case. Anna Massey."

"It all starts to run together when you're dealing with psychopaths."

"Not like this. I need to pull the old files and compare to be sure, but I'm pretty convinced the nick pattern in the vertebrae is similar as well as the saw striations on the bone."

He looked at me as if I'd gone crazy. "If the weapons were similar, the signature will be too."

I felt warmer. "I'm telling you I have a feeling about this…"

"Would you stick to your job and let me do mine?"

I sighed pointedly and crossed my arms. Sometimes Booth just didn't listen. Once in a while he'd let me cross the boundaries, but for the most part I was still the "squint" who really didn't have a nose for solving cases beyond what the bones could tell. It frustrated me, especially since I'd proven myself before.

"You'll see," I murmured. "And then I'll say 'I told you so.'" I bit my lip, hard.

"What?"

He looked at me amidst a turn and sloppily made the corner.

"Nothing," I lied. Thank god we were only a few blocks from our destination.

Booth navigated the Government Issue Suburban into a visitor parking spot outside the lobby of the hospital. I climbed out and started for the doors, Booth on my heels.

"In a hurry?" Booth really never could figure out when to shut up.

"Doesn't ASAP mean 'as soon as possible'?" I wasn't in the mood.

I flung the door open and made the reception desk before he had a chance to reply. The girl behind the counter glanced up at me with disinterest. I smiled cordially, but it was as plastic as the container on her desk.

"Can I help you?" in between smacking gum. I held me annoyance in check.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute," I began. "I need to speak with someone in neurosurgery about an implant we've come across in an active case."

"Credentials?"

"FBI," Booth chimed in, flashing badge.

"One moment please."

I glanced away while the receptionist called whomever and spoke quietly into the receiver. In minutes, she directed us to a wing of the hospital where Dr. Gattelin would speak with us regarding our find and X-rays I'd taken of the skull. As we walked the silent halls, I hoped against all odds that Booth would keep his mouth shut about our earlier argument. My luck held.

We arrived in a frigid office, where an older man with graying hair directed us to take a seat across from him. He formed a tent with his fingers and sighed. "What can I do for you?"

I pulled the implant from a container and set it carefully on the desk atop a clean sheet of paper, along with the X-rays of the skull. Dr. Gattelin glanced at them, and then found me over the thick rim of his glasses. A look of recognition crossed his face.

"It's used in cases of Hydrocephalus."

Booth looked at me, obviously thrown by the medical term. The Doctor could see that, as well.

"Water on the brain. The cerebrospinal fluid must be drained, so we insert a shunt such as this and drain the fluid elsewhere in the body. There should be more to the device, but there's no doubt. It's a VP shunt."

"Thank you, Dr. Gattelin." I skipped telling him why half the device was missing. Decapitation tends to make people edgy.

"You're quite welcome. Is there any other way I can help?"

I knew we'd need to run a search on missing persons of our victim's description, and then try to come up with a list of patients treated for Hydrocephalus. It was a long shot, but she may have had the implant here at this hospital.

"It may help us to see a list of all female patients who've undergone surgery for this condition in the last 20 years."

"Anyone of certain descriptors?"

"Yes. Caucasian. She was in her early twenties, but I'm not sure how old she was when the shunt was put in. The burr hole was well healed."

"Ah. Most cases occur in infants, although people who suffer head trauma or brain tumors are also likely to develop Hydrocephalus, depending on the extent of the injury. But…" He examined the shunt, rotating it with an envelope opener. "Judging by the shunt, I'd say it went in about five to ten years ago."

"That is more recent than I might have thought. So she might have been injured?"

Booth was silent. I glanced at him to see that he was watching me. I must have looked like a little girl in a candy shop. I loved this part of casework.

"She could have been. Or there is the possibility of an infection, meningitis, hemorrhaging, or tumors. All of those can sometimes cause Hydrocephalus."

"What are the symptoms?"

"There are many, and they vary from individuals. They also depend upon the severity of the condition. The most common in that age range are nausea, frequent headaches, fatigue, and irritability, loss of coordination, impaired vision and cognitive skills, even stroke and seizure."

"A broad range…"

"Indeed. I will get a list together for you. May I fax it?"

"Yes," I nodded. I gave him my card. "Thank you."

"I hope that I've been able to help."

"Very much so." I smiled. I was feeling a little better.

I shook hands with the doctor, gathered the X-rays and implant, and followed Booth from the office. His lips were pinned with a strange, lopsided smile and I didn't want to find out why.

We were just outside the doors when I found out, despite my prior thoughts.

"Man, you really get into that stuff, don't you?"

He was grinning. I was not.

"I suppose so."

"Maybe you have Hydro-whatever."

I suspected half the time he avoided technical terms just to separate himself from us "squints." And I was taken aback by the comment.

"What?" I scrunched my nose in question when we stopped at the SUV.

"Well, irritability is one of the symptoms."

Oh, my god. I wanted to smack him; even more so when I could think of nothing to come back at him with. Too bad annoying everyone within a ten mile radius wasn't on the list. I shook my head and shot him a glare.

"Relax, Bones. You're so uptight."

I chose to ignore him, only muttering thanks when he opened the passenger door for me. He was still grinning.

I was anxious to run the missing persons report and compare it with the list of women who'd been treated for Hydrocephalus recently. I was surprised to find out that the surgery had only been five to ten years prior. There'd be a lot to go over at the lab, and I was hoping that Hodgins would have a better estimate on the time of death after having spent a few hours with the insects. I couldn't wait to find the story hidden beneath this young woman's death, to bring justice to the person who'd caused it.

If only I could have predicted that day would be the last normal day I'd have for weeks. Everything I knew would come under stress and I would come face to face with a nightmare, Booth along for the ride.

It would change everything.

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Notes: There it is. My first shot at _Bones_ fanfic. Just a short start to what will be a suspense-thriller with a side of romance. The information on Hydrocephalus came slightly from Kathy Reichs' _Deadly Decisions_, but also from the following resources:

_Wikipedia & Nuerosurgery Today _

While I like the style of fun and light hearted, I didn't think it would fit here. Considering the nature of the show, I figured this setting would be perfect.

So, what do you think? I would love to hear any thoughts or suggestions in the form of a review.

Reviews are love.

-_Randi_


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